Friday 13th: The Anniversary

It was a small funeral. Family, friends and loved ones gathered under the shade of the mango tree as the silvery coffin glistened under torrential rays of the midday sun. Tears and sweat poured freely; soaking black gowns and turning white paper handkerchiefs brown. Silence hung in the air as tiny leaves rustled softly above the handful of mourners gathered around the deep pit. He looked at their sober faces covered with pain and dark sunglasses.

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The priest finished performing the final rites and then beckoned to the Husband of the deceased to say a few words. He did not want to speak, not because the situation which He found himself was difficult but rather the guilt resting on His conscience made him very solemn.

“I loved my Wife…” He began quietly, his lips barely moving as the events leading to her demise played back in the corner of his mind.

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He had been discharged from duty earlier than usual. His Commanding Officer took him off the recon squad meant to infiltrate enemy terrain. The reason for this was simple, the mission required a cool head, and He just did not have one. No one doubted his marksmanship, however his unique skill set was not needed for the job. He drove home angrily under the heavy rain pouring on a cloudless evening. As He pulled into his compound he remembered the date, and their kiss at the altar. Today made it two years since they both slipped on the matching pair of gold rings. He thought about going to get her a gift but decided to surprise her first.

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The front door was unlocked and the house was unusually quiet save for the thunderstorm knocking heavily against the roof. He assumed no one was home and deduced that the wind might have blown the door open. He carefully latched the door behind him and flipped the light switch as the fluorescent bulbs flickered to life. He then walked to the fridge to grab a cold can of beer. Placing his gun holster on the kitchen counter he noticed something odd about the fridge door. That was when he saw it, her picture; it had fallen to the floor. He picked it up and smiled. He’d almost forgotten how pretty she looked especially in blue. Their last anniversary he’d gotten her a sapphire vintage gown with red roses embroidered around the waist. He had seen it on the body of their mutual celebrity crush, but she was a bit thicker than her and honestly he had his doubts about the size but went ahead to place the order. In the end it fit her so perfectly that he could not resist the urge to photograph her and those appealing curves that made him drool and smile like a teenager. Her smile made him forget about the discharge notice he’d received. All he wanted now was for her to hold him close to her chest and maybe massage his groins. He smiled mischievously as he gulped the beer. Suddenly there was a noise; it sounded like a muffled scream and the clicking of heels tapping above him. Instinctively He grabbed his gun and his killer instincts kicked in. He journeyed slowly through the flight of stairs, each stride noiseless just like it had been at the last assignment He executed in Yola.

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He reached the top of the staircase and noticed shadowy movement coming from the master’s bedroom. Down on one knee he peeped through the keyhole and his eyes widened in shock at the sight of her tied to the frame of the bed. She’d done something with her hair, otherwise she was wearing the blue gown he’d bought her. Her eyes were covered with a blindfold and her mouth was gagged.

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A figure dressed in a black leather suit from head to toe emerged from the bathroom swinging a red baton menacingly in the air. Immediately he bust through the door aimed his gun at the head of the figure covered in black and squeezed twice as the body sank to the floor. He dashed towards her hurriedly removing the gag ball squeezed in between her lips. There was a lot of drool and screaming coming out from her mouth as the painful realization of his error struck his chest, crippling him momentarily. He finally dropped to his knees, wailing, as hot tears began rolling down his cheeks mixing with the crimson essence of his deceased spouse.

 
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The gravedigger scooped the last of the sand as people started to make their way towards the canopy, until only two remained; a Lover and the Widower.

Author's Profile:

Chimobim is a young African who hails from the Eastern Region of  Nigeria. He enjoys long walks and telling himself stories, which he sometimes writes about  hoping it resonates in the heart of someone vibing on the same frequency. Nowadays he spends his time on an island wearing crocs and eating sharwama.



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